Three Mistakes
by friendofthequn
Summary: May the Fourth one-shot. Two workaholic spies try to keep each other from collapsing on the job. Takes place after Chapter 13 of Fallen Empire.
Theron yawned. That was his first mistake.

Betarus didn't even look up from his datapad when he said, "Get some sleep, Theron."

Arguing was pointless. Betarus had a point, along with a knack for manipulation that must have made his old Intelligence instructors weep with joy. Theron decided to do it anyway. He waved his own datapad expressively. "Commander, we just received about a metric tonne of information on the GEMINI droids. I'll sleep once it's all sorted out."

Betarus didn't outright sigh in disappointment, but he did exhale loudly and close his eyes for a moment as he set his datapad down, which accomplished just about the same thing but in a much more composed way. "And by then something else will have come up that needs to be looked at, then another, and another, until you finally collapse and miss something of extreme importance."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Theron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I spent most of my time at the Academy running on caf," he admitted. "But I certainly didn't miss the class on deflection."

Theron ignored the part of his mind that spoke up whenever Betarus said anything about his past, the distrustful part that had served him well as a spy but really didn't help with relationships, and set down his datapad on the holoterminal. "Commander-"

"Theron, it's just us. You can drop the formalities."

Theron blinked and looked around. Indeed, since he'd started sifting through the information Kaliyo had stolen the war room had miraculously become completely empty. _Very observant, Shan. You're doing the SIS proud._ "Betarus." It may have been wishful thinking on his part, but he thought that every time he said the commander's name he could see him relax ever so slightly. He couldn't help but wonder at that. He was familiar with the ranking system of the former Imperial Intelligence, how it reduced its members to a role and a number. Even his former crew referred to him exclusively as 'Cipher' or 'agent'. And now, with Intelligence long gone, Theron suspected he was the only member of the Alliance who felt comfortable enough with him to ever refer to him by name, if only in private.

Theron mentally shook himself. _You can wonder just how psychologically messed up your boyfriend is later. Focus on the task at hand._ "It's not deflection if it's relevant." Before Betarus could respond he'd closed the distance between them and grabbed him by the shoulders so he couldn't escape. He felt his muscles tense beneath his fingers and saw his eyes widen in alarm – the usual reaction he had to Theron unexpectedly touching him. It just made the dark circles under his slightly bloodshot eyes all the more apparent to Theron.

Once the initial shock of physical contact passed, Betarus sighed and closed his eyes. "Fine. You have a point. But I know my limits. You clearly don't."

"Master Zho always told me to push my boundaries every day," said Theron. "Okay, maybe not in so many words. He used a lot of nature metaphors, but I got the general idea."

Betarus gave a faint chuckle before his face became serious again. "A nice sentiment, but not very helpful in this case. Go to bed, Theron."

Theron heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, fine, you're the boss." He released Betarus, turned around and walked towards his quarters, nonchalantly picking up-

"Leave the datapad."

Theron cursed internally and put it back down. "Yes, sir." He started walking away again, knowing that-

"And don't use the ones you've got stashed in your room, either."

Theron turned back toward him. "Kriff, Beta, I told you to stop going through my stuff!"

"Don't call me Beta," said the commander, with unexpectedly strong emotion. He took a deep breath and continued in a more calm tone, "And frankly, if you wanted privacy you shouldn't have gotten involved with another spy." He purposefully strode past Theron, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and dragging him along.

"Where are we going?" Theron asked, struggling not to trip over his own feet.

"My quarters," Betarus replied. "Because you are incapable of not working unless you're under surveillance. You really aren't helping my trust issues, you know that?"

"Depends on the definition of 'helping'," muttered Theron, trying not to notice the judgemental gaze of a pair of nearby Republic soldiers. At least, he imagined they were judgemental, helmets and all. The troops had already seen him in too many compromising situations, it wasn't like one more would irreparably tarnish his reputation.

Once they'd entered Betarus's room, Theron found himself rather unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. "Okay, I'm not gonna lie," he said. "When I imagined you dragging me to your room and throwing me onto your bed, it, uh, didn't end with us taking a nap." That was mistake number two. Betarus froze in the middle of taking off a boot, looking at Theron with the blank expression he'd come to understand meant 'I don't want to let it show because I don't want you to feel bad but you just hurt my feelings enough that I can't pretend to be okay'. He'd felt quite proud of himself for figuring that expression out. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I am totally fine just imagining it if you don't want to. It's all good." He rubbed his forehead. "I just proved you right. I am too tired to do anything without screwing up right now."

Betarus smirked as he took off his other boot. "So what's your excuse the rest of the time?"

Theron gave a tired chuckle as Betarus lay down next to him. He moved to make more room for him and said, "Y'know, Lana really splurged here. Your bed is about fifty times comfier than mine. Think she'd make room in the budget to get me one of these?"

"Maybe, considering our budget just significantly increased," said Betarus, resting his head on Theron's shoulder. "Best strike while the iron's hot, though. That money's going to get allocated to unimportant things like ammunition and food soon."

Theron frowned. "Strike while the iron's hot?"

"Old figure of speech," explained Betarus. "Very, very old figure of speech. It just means it is best to act quickly, before the opportunity passes."

"What does it even mean? Why would you want to strike hot iron?" Theron asked drowsily. The smell of Betarus's hair (a chemical-laden scent that made his nose itch, but rather nice nonetheless) was doing wonders for his consciousness.

"Hot iron is much more malleable than cold iron, so if you strike it you can bend it. Before any real machinery was invented, heating iron in a fire, striking it, and then repeating until it was in a pleasing shape was the only way people could make anything. As I said, it's a rather archaic saying."

Betarus continued talking, but Theron didn't really comprehend the words as he was quickly lulled to sleep. Unknown to him, this was his third mistake, because eventually Betarus said, "So, if you could tell me a bit more about this fantasy of yours, maybe we-" Then he realized Theron was asleep and he sighed. "Of course." He hesitated for a moment before kissing the sleeping spy's forehead and rolling over to get some rest himself.

 **A/N: May the Fourth be with you, everyone! I felt like I had to contribute somehow, so I did it in the only way I could imagine: slashfic! And I've been playing a lot of The Old Republic lately, so here we are. There are parts of this story that probably don't make much sense without the proper context, because I put way too much thought into my MMO characters' backstories and personalities, but c'est la vie. I feel like it's better to have a bit of confusion than way too much exposition. Happy Star Wars Day!**


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